Brits Can't Cook Indian for Nothing!
by Arianna Waters
Summary: Cooking disasters from JK's puppets! Told 'em Indian food isn't their cup of tea, but looks like they ain't got any ears.
1. Chapter 1

_Written for Hogwarts House Challenges: The Kitchen Challenge_

W.C. 407

* * *

 **Lessons from the Elf**

"Kreacher is old and Kreacher can die soon; Mistress Ginny needs to learn how to cook."

Ginny sighed and turned back to the counter, moping off the beads of sweat that had formed on her forehead with a towel. For the hundredth time, she cursed luck. Her mother was a pro at cooking everything, but Ginny was worse in kitchen than Tonks was on her legs. And right now, she was cooking a dish called Pani-Poori.

She moved over and dropped the spoon again; had Kreacher not levitated it using elf-magic, it would surely have cut her foot. She looked up at the tiny creature, only to meet a steely gaze. Though she was happy for him to be a free house-elf, sometimes she wished he wasn't—especially when he ordered her around in the kitchen. And she didn't even know how he kept up with all the muggle appliances Harry had bought.

Whipping the mixture, she turned to Kreacher. "What do I have to do next?"

"Kreacher shall not tell Mistress Ginny what to do. Kreacher told that to Mistress Ginny yesterday, and now Mistress Ginny should do the work herself."

Ginny swore under her breath. Why did Indians have to design such complicated dishes . . . and why her husband had to take a liking to the Indian food? Well, at least she did not have to feed Ron, or she would have been six feet under the grave by now.

 _'Is this even supposed to be so wet?'_ she thought to herself. Scanning through her memory, she came to the conclusion that the Poori part was to be made of dough, and the Pani part had to be a spicy, watery drink.

She looked down at the bowl in front of her. Inside was a sticky, batter-like substance—in a contrast of green and cream. Apparently, she had mixed the two halves of the dish, and everything was spoilt now.

Kreacher must have come to the same conclusion, because before Ginny could let out another sigh, he had vanished the gooey substance—the act reminding her of the old Slytherin bat.

"Master Ginny has failed again . . . Kreacher has some cake in the ref-re- _fridge_ , but Kreacher worries what Master Harry and Mistress Ginny will do when Kreacher dies!"

Huffing, he went off, leaving Ginny standing in the kitchen, a dirty apron draped on her robes—looking like an over-sized house elf.


	2. Chapter 2

_Written for Hogwarts House Challenges: The Kitchen Challenge_

W.C. 368

* * *

 **Dobby's First Leave**

Dobby was cleaning Dumbledore's study one day when he heard the old headmaster talking to himself, thinking of his quests, and the places he had visited. He got to know that the headmaster missed south-Indian food a lot.

Being a fan of the headmaster, he decided he would make a south-Indian food for the headmaster on the old man's birthday. Somehow he managed to get his hands on the recipe of a dish called _dhokla_ , and hid it in his small trunk where he stored his treasured sock Harry Potter had given to him.

On the day, he set to work. Just as he had finished preparing the batter and putting it in casts and onto the stove, the gathering crowd near the far end of his table caught his attention. Jumping on his table, he walked over to the place to see what was happening—and what he saw caused his chest to tighten.

There stood Winky, drunk as usual, kissing Gipper. Gipper was the elf who headed the group who prepared food for the Slytherin table, and no one liked him. Dobby, of course, had asked for a position in the Gryffindor group, and had dragged Winky with him. He couldn't deny that he had developed a soft corner for the girl-elf during this time—he had spent many a free hours thinking of the day when his and Winky's elf-lings would grow up, and eventually start working at Hogwarts.

Now, all his dreams had shattered. As a huge drop of tear fell out of his large eyes, the long noses of the people all around him flinched. He turned to see what had caused the burnt smell, only to see smoke coming out of the vessel he had put on the stove.

He rushed back to his place with quivering steps and doused the fire on the stove. He wished he had never gone to see what Winky had been doing; he now had no spirits to make the weird, spongy, yellow _dhokla_.

Hadn't the headmaster said he was free to take leaves?

Dobby made a decision right then. For the first time in his time at Hogwarts, Dobby, the house elf, took a leave.


End file.
